Bored
by sherlockfan1
Summary: Sherlock is bored. Inspired from A Scandal in Belgravia - 'If I wanted to look at naked women I'd borrow John's laptop'.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own Sherlock.

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><p>Sherlock flopped down on the sofa and closed his eyes. For the past few days, he had been rotting away in the flat with nothing to do with his time. It appeared that the London criminals were lying low (for whatever reason), which meant that Scotland Yard hadn't been bombarding him with daft phone calls.<p>

He had briefly considered rifling through his stash today. Drugs helped to temporarily alleviate the boredom. But then again, he couldn't be bothered to endure another lecture from John and Mrs Hudson. Honestly, if he wanted someone to badger him about the dangerous effects of narcotics, he would have moved back in with his mother. But he would rather stick pins in his eyes than resort to that option.

John had been searching through his possessions again (obviously under Mycroft's orders). Sherlock just wished that his flatmate would remember not to mess up his sock index. Sherlock knew whenever someone had been looking through his things and he hated the way that his flatmate often underestimated his intelligence. John was hardly a top secret spy. His clumsy fingers left clues all around Sherlock's room, indicating that someone had been tampering with his things.

Then again, perhaps John was just incredibly transparent. Sherlock chuckled. And to think that John thought he was clever by changing the password on his laptop in an attempt to stop Sherlock from borrowing it.

Sherlock jumped from the sofa and rushed up to the chair, checking the time. It would be fifteen minutes before John arrived home from work. He flipped open the laptop lid and booted it up, waiting for the loading screen. The gears were whirring in his brain as he tried to think of a suitable experiment to conduct using the laptop.

He typed in the password.

Access denied.

Sherlock smiled, he loved it when John thought that changing his password would somehow stop him from accessing the contents of the laptop, when in fact, it provided a welcome challenge. Sherlock cracked the code with ease. It was hardly Fort Knox.

The last time Sherlock had logged onto John's laptop with the old password was one week ago. This meant that sometime in the seven day period, John had switched passwords. John was fairly predictable. He probably used something that was relevant to his own life. A date of birth. A name that he remembered from years ago. A special location. Or more likely, something that happened very recently.

Obviously, the password was thegeekinterpreter, referring to the case they took earlier that week with the comic book nerds. He had written all about it on his blog. Sherlock shook his head at his flatmate's stupidity.

He was immediately brought to John's desktop background, which was a picture of John with his alcoholic sister (ironically, the photo was taken in a pub). She claimed that she was clean again - though it wouldn't be long before she started drinking again.

"Honestly John, your stupidity astounds me some days," Sherlock said, rolling his eyes.

He dragged his mouse to the desktop file entitled 'Canada holiday 2-11-11', hovering over it hesitantly.

There were certain files on the laptop that John didn't want anyone else to see. These files were often hidden under unrelated titles, posing as boring medical reports or holiday snaps that no-one really wanted to see. These files would make John blush if they were mentioned in public. And Sherlock knew that these files were the reason why John locked his door at certain hours in the night and came back out ten minutes later with that awkward, guilty expression on his face before heading straight for the bathroom.

Sherlock suddenly had an idea for an experiment. He rushed to the kitchen and retrieved a cage where a white lab rat had been sitting. Sherlock had bought him from the pet shop a few days ago. He was supposed to feed his strange chemicals to see his reactions, but he grew to become quite fond of his little friend. Even though he wouldn't openly admit it.

He brought the cage to the table with the laptop and opened up the files that John had made an effort to conceal.

Immediately, Sherlock cringed at the sound of cheesy music in the background. He opened the latch to the cage and the rat crawled out onto the table, squeaking gently. Sherlock cupped his hands and the rat climbed on, probably expecting a treat.

"Greedy, little thing," Sherlock mumbled.

He stroked the rat's forehead with a finger and lifted it up in front of the screen, as they both observed the events unfolding in front of them.

Sherlock wondered why people like Irene, John and even Mycroft were so fixated on the idea of sex for enjoyment. The woman in the video was dressed in a low cut top with a small denim skirt. She probably had a lot of daddy issues, judging from her far-too-generous use of eye makeup. Suddenly, the man entered. He looked as though he had bathed in fake tan overnight, wearing a tight vest top to accentuate his muscles. They were paid to act as though they enjoyed it, which seemed like an incredibly pointless career.

The rat squeaked in Sherlock's hands and started waggling its tail. He observed this reaction and quickly wrote it down on a piece of paper, before returning his attention to the screen.

Was this supposed to be sexually stimulating?

The woman was leaned over on the table with her backside facing the air, while the man slapped it repeatedly in a rather degrading manner.

"This is really boring," Sherlock said, skipping forwards in the video.

He looked at his watch. John should be home in approximately six minutes. He turned up the volume on the video and observed the woman lying on the bed with dramatic looks on her face. Sherlock deduced that she was an aspiring 'actress' who had been attending acting school, then subsequently dropped out.

He watched the woman with her bare chest heaving and her fingernails digging into the man's back. The man was sweating, but carried on shoving his appendage inside of her.

Sherlock had officially lost interest in the video. His mind drifted to more important matters, such as the contents of the fridge and whether or not John went grocery shopping yet. And why there was no crimes being committed in London right now. And whether or not he could manage to convince Molly to allow him to take away a bag of kneecaps for his next experiment.

"SHERLOCK!" a voice shouted from the doorway, before he realised that John had walked into the flat with a mortified expression on his face.

"Yes?" he asked, pausing the video.

"Is that... are you... have you got my laptop?" John asked, pointing at the object with his face reddening like a beetroot.

"Whatever led you to such an insightful conclusion?" Sherlock asked.

"Is that a rat in your hand?" John spluttered.

"Well, he was getting rather restless, so I decided to cheer him up. He doesn't seem too impressed though. Nor should you. This is pure filth, John," Sherlock said, putting the rat back in its cage and gesturing at the laptop.

John strode up to Sherlock and slammed the laptop lid shut, disconnecting it from the power lead and tucking it under his arm with that determined look on his face.

"What I decide to put on my laptop is none of your business," he said.

"Okay," Sherlock said, trying to hide the smirk from his face.

"What were you doing on my laptop anyway?"

"Bored."

"Your laptop is just over there! Couldn't you have used your own instead of stealing mine?" John shouted, pointing at the silver object on the kitchen counter.

"Too far away," Sherlock mumbled.

"No more," John growled. "And I hope you haven't gotten viruses on my laptop!"

The front door slammed shut and there was a faint rustling of carrier bags. John hastily regained his composure and retired back to his bedroom to 'hide' the laptop - although Sherlock knew it would either be under the bed, in the sock drawer or on top of the wardrobe. He smiled at the fact that John was blushing and returned his attention to the lab rat, poking his finger inside the cage to stroke its back.

"There's a good boy," he said.

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><p><strong>AN: **So, this was a rather pointless fic, but please rate and review! Thanks for reading! :)


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